


conscience is the wound, and there’s naught to staunch it

by icantelltheworld



Category: Ravenous (1999)
Genre: Gen, based on a deleted scene - see A/N
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:55:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26031505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icantelltheworld/pseuds/icantelltheworld
Summary: He didn't remember thinking, only doing. So he could only tell them what had happened: Charlie had retreated against orders, so he’d shot him in the back.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	conscience is the wound, and there’s naught to staunch it

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the deleted scene where we find out why Reich was sent to Fort Spencer.
> 
> I highly recommend watching it, just in general, but also because this fic is nonsense without that context so here it is, for reference: https://youtu.be/ugKaEXKoyO4

He hadn’t questioned his judgement at all as, like countless times before, he’d raised his rifle, aimed, and fired. It was only when Charlie cried out in pain, crumpling to the ground as the bullet found its mark that things fell apart.

_What were you thinking?_

He didn’t remember thinking, only doing. So he could only tell them what had happened: Charlie had retreated against orders, so he’d shot him in the back.

There was an inherent justification there, perhaps. Those who couldn’t take the heat should never have been anywhere near it to begin with and betrayal demands a steep price. But somehow, in practice, this seemed a lacking defense, and defending himself at all made him feel sick so he didn’t try. He just told them what he had done again and again, as if saying it enough times might wash him clean. 

It was lucky, he supposed, that there were men in his company willing to corroborate his story. Or, more, that they were willing to be in the same room with him to do so, considering. But they weren’t defending him in any moral sense either. It was simply a matter of fact that a court-martial for someone who had deserted under those circumstances might very well have resulted in an execution anyway. His greatest sin in the judge’s eyes was not murder, but costing the U.S. the skirmish and the territory his company had been forced to retreat from. 

His memory of their retreat amidst the chaos was hazy but he remembered clearly the look on Charlie’s face as he’d shuddered out his last breath in his arms, blood pouring from the side of his mouth. Their eyes had met just before Charlie’s went dull. The last thing he had known was that his friend had killed him.

In the end, it was decided that, since he was clearly unfit for command or, indeed, for combat in general, he was to be demoted and sent out to some backwater fort to rot. And how could he argue? After all, those who couldn’t take the heat should never have been anywhere near it to begin with and betrayal demands a steep price.

A part of him wished they would just shoot him too and be done with it. 

  
  



End file.
